


the tower

by ectocooler, mainshock



Category: Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Character Study, Fix-It, M/M, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 16:52:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14919225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ectocooler/pseuds/ectocooler, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mainshock/pseuds/mainshock
Summary: Follows on from Dead Souls #3. Though Illyana failed to save Rictor from the crashing plane, she and Shatterstar both know that the rules of space, time, life and death are not so simple. To 'Star, the afterlife is just another dimension, and death is just the latest in a series of challenges their relationship has had to endure.But finding Rictor in Limbo is one thing. Getting him out alive is another.





	the tower

**Author's Note:**

> Part fix-it, part character study, and all no longer canon after Dead Souls #4 comes out tonight. Oops.
> 
> Edit: apparently there was a whole paragraph missing from this the entire time? I hope nobody noticed.

It’s been arduous, ‘Star thinks. Difficult. Punishing.

Hellish. 

The realm of Limbo is not Hell, but it may as well be. Rivers of lava, screams of the damned, demonic entities of all sorts converging in one place. It isn’t the afterlife, but it’s no place for the living - or at least that’s what Illyana advises him. To anyone else she might simply have seemed reluctant to give up the information, but she’s a warrior just like him. He sees himself in her just enough to know that somewhere behind her stoicism, she’s scared. 

She informs him that Rictor, if he wasn’t lost in the fiery explosion that had supposedly claimed his life, would have most likely ended up in Limbo. She warns him of its dangers, but doesn’t try to stop him. He’s grateful for that. He’s not exactly the kind of person who would let himself be stopped.

There was a funeral, there were mourners, but ‘Star knows better. That, or he’s in denial. He doesn’t see the difference. If he’s right, he’s intent on succeeding in his mission to find and rescue Rictor. If he’s wrong, then he dies here. Either way, he’s not leaving here without Ric.

For the first week, anger fuels him; a rage that burns so furiously that some of the demons he encountered on his journey even seemed afraid of _him_. It’s easy, channeling those emotions. Anger has always been familiar to him, like an old friend attempting to comfort him in his time of need. Then the weeks go on, and the anger fades into a dull ache in his chest. Sadness wells up inside of him, and then frustration, and then despair. The landscape is one nightmare after another, constantly shifting and changing; many times he found himself walking in circles, disoriented in some battle or another or led into an ambush. He’s been wounded more times than he can count, and after a while, some of those wounds stop healing. He’s exhausted, broken, but he’s resolute. He’ll find him. He’s sure of it.

There’s one thing that hasn’t changed in all the time he’s been here: a castle, black and angular, with architecture so alien that he’s never seen its like on Earth or beyond it. Somehow he knows that the answers he’s looking for are within its walls, but first he has to reach it.

After what feels like an eternity, he does. He walks up to the gates, tired and bloody, half-expecting the castle to disappear the moment he reaches it. It’s markedly colder here than the rest of the area, but ‘Star shed the tattered remains of his jacket days ago, and his shirt hasn’t fared much better. There is a scar across his chest that won’t heal all the way. It itches.

He crosses a crumbling stone bridge to the castle doors. Pebbles fall from the sides as he walks, tumbling into the black abyss below. When he reaches the door, he stands there for a moment, waiting. He’s half expecting it to be some trick - a mirage in the distance that shifts before he can reach out to touch it, or a trap, or loose footing that might send him falling into the void. He wonders if he’d fall back up again, if that were so. Gravity seems to work differently here. Space, physics, time too. It’s the last one that bothers him the most. How long has he been here? More importantly, how long has _Rictor_ been here?

If he’s even here at all. 

Tentatively, ‘Star reaches for the doors. Nothing stops him - no trap is sprung, and the image in front of him doesn’t fade away. It’s solid, as real as anything can be in this dimension.

The doors aren’t even locked. He pushes them open and they swing back soundlessly.

He’s seen a lot of things during his time here, but nothing like this. What awaits him is not the interior of a castle. It’s not the interior of any building. What he sees inside couldn’t possibly fit within the walls of the structure; he can see the night sky, Earth’s sky, and it seems to stretch on forever.

‘Star steps in past the doors and finds himself walking on thin air. He must be fifty storeys up, maybe more. He can tell because there’s a building in front of him, a tall one. An apartment complex, or maybe an office block. He’s not sure, because all of the lights inside are flickering so fast he can barely make out what’s behind the windows. He walks - not flies, or floats, but walks - forward. When the doors swing shut behind him, he’s in mid-air, and there’s no trace of the structure around him or the dimension he just fought his way through.

It’s freezing cold all of a sudden. Wherever he is now looks like Earth and feels like Earth, but something is wrong. Multiple somethings. Below him, far below him, the traffic moves in odd, looping patterns, cars stuck on roundabouts with no end. When he stares too long at the windows in the building in front of him he swears he’s starting to see people inside, faces pressed to the windows - mostly staring, but sometimes screaming.

He keeps walking forward nonetheless. There’s a figure at the top of the building, standing on the edge, silhouetted against the hazy, artificial glow of the city lights. He has no doubt as to who it is. He’d recognize the shape of him anywhere.

‘Star makes it to the edge of the building before he hesitates. He stands and stares at him, like he’s trying to confirm that what he’s seeing is real. His heart, heavy in his chest, starts to lift just a little. The sensation gives him chills and he feels tears forming in his eyes. All this time and finally, _finally_ he can see Rictor again. 

It’s a familiar feeling. This isn’t the first time they’ve been apart, but the heartache is the same, and so is the elation, the relief. It always hurts, always scares him, but ‘Star refuses to sit by this time. He hopes it makes a difference. 

He steels himself against the emotions that are threatening to overwhelm him and begins to walk forward again. One step turns into two and then three and then suddenly he is on top of that building. ‘Star can see Ric properly now. He’s standing stock-still and he doesn’t seem to have noticed ‘Star at all.

He’s still staring over that ledge. The path between them is littered with objects, strange things that ‘Star knows do not belong on the top of this building - an old television, a bed with a knitted cover, a wooden chair that he notes is remarkably similar to the chairs outside a cafe they used to frequent. Propped up against one of the air vents on the roof is an arrangement of flowers, bouquets and wreaths and one single, red rose. Near them are other, stranger items: a broken tape deck, with its reels spooling out across the rooftop. A stack of books, all damp despite the lack of rain. A dozen bottles, all broken, and the smell of alcohol that wafts from them. Countless other things half-hidden in the dark.

A breeze blows, scattering paper across the roof. One slip gets caught beneath his foot, and he stares down at it. It’s a ticket - an airline ticket, ‘Star realizes. They all are. There must be a hundred of them.

When he tears his eyes away from it, awash with a new sense of horror, Rictor has turned around and he’s looking straight at him.

“Yeah,” Ric says. His voice is distant, different, sad. “I figured you’d show up here someday.”

“Julio…” ‘Star speaks and it feels strange. He can’t remember the last time he even uttered words here. Nothing meaningful, anyway. Nothing that wasn’t a pained grunt or a rage-filled scream. He drops his swords on the ground. “You’re here.” It’s almost like he’s attempting to reassure himself. Is this real? It seems like it is. Dread suddenly sits heavy in his chest. How long? How long has Ric been up here? “Were you waiting?”

Ric moves away from the edge, but he doesn’t close the space between them. Instead he takes a seat atop one of the vents, staring out into the distance. “I guess I was,” he says. His voice is still quiet, like it’s coming from somewhere far away. “I was hoping you’d think better of it. I didn’t want you to come here… but I’m starting to realize that most of the time, I don’t really get what I want.”

‘Star takes a deep breath before hesitating a step forward. “I could not leave you here.” He takes it slow, like he’s approaching a dangerous animal. It’s strange and it feels wrong, but so does everything else about this place. “I knew I would find you. I’ve come to take you home.” He’s determined when he says it. Despite everything else, his dedication has never wavered.

“Home?” Ric looks over at him. “Aw, man,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t think I can go home. I mean - I don’t know if this is that kinda situation.” He hops off the vent, cautiously picking his way past the objects on the ground towards ‘Star. He’s close enough to look at him now, and he takes a moment to do so. “You, uh… you don’t look so good,” he says, flinching just slightly when he meets ‘Star’s eyes.

“I would assume not.” ‘Star answers him, finally meeting his eyes as well. “I have been battling demons for weeks. The monsters are different here and my healing factor appears to be... faltering.” He presses a hand to that scar on his chest. It’s raised and hot, even days after he was injured. “Regardless... it is very good to see you.” There is so much he wants to say, but he has no idea where to start.

“Weeks, huh?” Ric is still looking at him strangely. He must look worse than he imagined, ‘Star reasons. “Yeah, that seems about right.” He sighs, taking another tentative step towards him. “I dunno if I should be glad, or if it’s even really you, but… it’s good to see you too, ‘Star.”

“I wasn’t lying when I told you that I was here to take you home. I meant it. If there is a way into this place, there must also be a way out.” ‘Star is attempting to draw a logical conclusion even if this place is anything but logical. He should know better, but it seems that seeing Ric for the first time in weeks has clouded his judgement. He doesn’t care. Perhaps it’s enough just to believe. It’s gotten him this far.

“For you, sure,” Ric says. “But me? I think I might be here for the long haul, ‘Star. I mean… well.” He breathes out a laugh, cold and humorless. “You know what happened to me. I died, right? And there was a funeral and everything.” 

‘Star watches him as he turns, gesturing at the flowers. “See? Must have been a pretty big turnout.” He kneels down to pick up one of the wreaths, a circle of orange flowers woven tightly together. “Did my mama show up? I figure she woulda brought something like this. Tradition, and all.” He studies the look on ‘Star’s face, and his silence. Then his shoulders sag. “She… wasn’t there, was she?” he asks, then sighs.

“Julio,” ‘Star begins to say, but Rictor doesn’t seem to be listening.

“Whatever,” he continues, as the flowers in his hand start to catch alight, burning to embers and then to ash. The fire doesn’t seem to bother him. “Maybe I’m not, like, for-real dead. Maybe this is just another false alarm.” He turns back towards the edge of the building. “Doesn’t explain this, though. This building. I figure whoever put me up here really has it in for me. Like, I’m being punished for something, right? Gotta be.” 

He sighs, looking back at ‘Star with a forlorn expression on his face. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Julio…” ‘Star finds himself saying for the second time. He’s at a loss for words. He isn’t usually like this, so hesitant and tentative. Maybe he is even more exhausted than he thought he was. “No one knew what to believe. They acted on the evidence they had at the time.” There was a funeral. ‘Star feels terrible just thinking about it. Knowing it wasn’t really the end didn’t make it hurt less. “But I knew. I would never leave you to be alone like this. I do not care if you didn’t want me to come. This place is not for you. You do not belong here, you belong home. With me.” Now that the words have come, borne in on that sudden flood of nerves, he’s not sure what else to say. He’s curious about this place, and how it might have kept Rictor here for so long. Magik told him that there are areas in Limbo that shift and change according to the will of its denizens. A strong will could warp the very fabric of the space around it, but Rictor doesn’t seem to be doing this on purpose. “All of these items… are you thinking them into existence?”

He sees Ric stop, pausing as he thinks it through. Then he shakes his head as a laugh starts to bubble from his throat, loud, hysterical, almost pained. “Am I -?” he starts, then sinks to the ground, covering his face with his hands. “Oh my god, of course I am. You know, I’ve been stuck up here for weeks,” he says, “and this whole time I’ve been going crazy trying to figure out what’s going on - am I dead? Am I just stuck here, being screwed with by all these demon things? Am I being punished - like, by God or something? I had all these theories, but none of ‘em…” 

He trails off, then tries again: “I thought, what the hell did I do, right? What’d I do to make whoever’s up there hate me so much? ‘Cause - ‘cause whoever’s doing this, whoever’s put me up on this fucking apartment building with all this trash, and the airplane tickets, and the flowers and everything - they must hate my fuckin’ guts.”

He flops down on the rooftoop, laying on his back. His eyes are closed. “It’s _me_ ,” he moans, anguished. “Of course it’s me. Nobody hates me as much as I do.”

“Julio,” ‘Star says, “listen to me. None of this is your fault. You do not have to stay here. This is not punishment… Limbo is a terrible place, but it is just an alternate dimension, like any other. I spoke to Magik. She told me as much.”

Slowly, Ric opens one eye, and then the other. “Limbo, huh?” he asks. “Figures.” Then he frowns. “Did she - did she drop me here?” It’s clear who he’s talking about. “Before the… impact, it looked like she was tryin’ to teleport us out, but she didn’t quite make it. Or… maybe she made it, but I didn’t.” He rolls onto his side, facing ‘Star. “Wait… does that mean I’m not dead?”

“No,” ‘Star tries to assure him. “I suspect not. And I know I am not dead. I teleported here, and I see no reason why I cannot teleport us both back.” It’s difficult for him to actually reassure Ric. He’s not lying, but he doesn’t know for sure if what he’s suggesting is truly possible, and he’s never been good at concealing his uncertainty. For now, the sincerity of his commitment will have to suffice. “We have been lost in time together before. If we made it back from that, then this should not be difficult. I am here with you now. You are not alone.” ‘Star reaches a hand out to him. “Please.”

Ric sits up, about to take ‘Star’s hand, and then he hesitates. “I…” he begins to say, looking uneasy. “I don’t know if I should do that,” he says, withdrawing his hand. “Not yet. I mean… you seem real and all, but so does everything else here.” He pulls his knees to his chest, folding his arms around them. “Can you just sit with me for a while? I’m still not totally convinced you’re really here, but I sure could use the company. It’s been weeks.” He pauses, chewing at his lip. “I think.”

‘Star lowers his hand to his side but nods simply. He can’t pretend that he isn’t hurt, but he’s beginning to understand Ric’s wariness. This place, the rooftop and everything on it, must be like a nightmare to him. Perhaps it feels as though ‘Star is just another trick of the mind, a piece of his past dredged up to torment him. 

“Is there anything I can do to prove to you that I am who I appear to be?” ‘Star takes a few steps forward and sits down, close to Ric but not as close as he wants to be. It hurts to wait, but impatience isn’t what Ric needs right now.

“I dunno,” Ric says. “On one hand, you being here seems too good to be true. These past few weeks have been… y’know, _hell._ Seeing your face again is the only good thing that’s ever happened to me down here.” He sighs, arms curling tighter around himself. “But if you’re right, and I really am making all this stuff up - the rooftop, and this garbage everywhere that keeps reminding me of all the shit that happened to me when I was alive - how do I know I’m not just making you up, too?”

‘Star stops himself from reaching out to him. He’s desperate to show him that he’s real, and touch has often worked where words could not, but this doesn’t seem like the time. He forces himself to think.

“If I truly was a figment of your imagination,” he poses, “would you have only thought me into existence now? Forgive me for seeming self-important, but I know you, Julio. Your mind may go to dark places, but I have told you time and time again that I will always come back to you. Is it so hard to believe that I would still come for you here?”

Ric shakes his head. “Like I said, I didn’t _want_ you to come here. Or… I knew I shouldn’t want that. This is a bad place, ‘Star. When you showed up, I thought -” He breaks off suddenly, voice failing in his throat. Then he swallows and starts again. “I thought you were dead too,” he says, quieter. “But that doesn’t make sense. You don’t deserve this place. Even if you did, the place you would’ve ended up in wouldn’t have looked like this. This is,” he waves his hand in a vague gesture, “personal to me, obviously. So you’re a guest,” he reasons, “if you’re even here at all.” He slumps over, resting his chin on his knees. “Either way, I still wish you didn’t have to see me like this.”

“This may be presumptuous,” ‘Star begins, still staring at him, watching the grief and despair roll off of him in waves. “But is that not what partners do? Stay with one another no matter what. I love you. There is no version of these events in any timeline where I do not come looking for you. I haven’t seen them,” he admits, “but I am stubborn.” 

That, at least, draws a laugh out of Ric, however faint it might sound. Hope sparks in ‘Star’s heart.

“I am sorry for all of this.” ‘Star gestures to the rooftop. “But perhaps me being here will help.”

Ric looks at him with a new kind of awareness in his expression, as if the clouds are beginning to part and something clear is shining through. “You know,” he says, “I spent a lot of time thinkin’ about you, even before all this, but no matter how hard I try, I can never quite get the voice right. You’re kinda hard to pin down.” He looks hopeful, if only for a split second. “So… even if it ain’t you, it sure sounds like you.” But he doesn’t move to touch ‘Star, not yet. Instead, he stares out over the city again, drawing a deep breath before he starts to speak.

“You weren’t there,” he says, “the last time I was up on this rooftop, so I guess you wouldn’t know the significance. I was mad at you back then. I was mad at everyone. Some of ‘em deserved it, but not you.” He chuckles. “Later on you came back, and I realized I was glad you never had to see me like that. Up on this fuckin’ building, ready to…” He falls quiet, shaking his head. “Rahne was there, and she said if I did it - y’know, if I jumped - then it was a sin, and I’d go to hell.” He laughs, but it’s just as humorless as before. “I know, right? What kind of a person says that? But maybe that’s why. I mean, I never did it, but… maybe it’s the thought that counts.”

“People say many untrue things when they are hurting,” ‘Star tells him. It’s true from what he knows of it. He and Ric have had their share of ups and downs since he returned all that time ago. “As I mentioned before, however, this is not your fault.” Though his theory that Rictor is more of a prisoner of his own mind than anything seems more likely than ever. “Would you like to tell me what all these items are? Aside from the rooftop… perhaps we can work through them together.” 

Ric looks thoughtful. “Yeah,” he says. “Alright. I dunno if it’s gonna help, but I miss having company, so… let’s do this.” He gets back on his feet slowly, careful to stay away from the edge of the rooftop. “You already saw the flowers,” he says, as he walks over to them. “I don’t really know what that’s about. I guess I figured if I’m really dead, there would’ve been a funeral. Then I got to thinking about how it all would’ve gone down - who showed up, who didn’t, what kinda stuff people said about me. Figured it would’ve been one of those big X-Men affairs, where everyone comes out and talks about how brave you were, how you were a valuable member of the team… whatever. But thinking about that kinda hurts, ‘cause… ‘cause where was everyone when I was still around? When I lost my powers, and when I was on this rooftop… I dunno, man. I coulda used some flowers back then, I think.” And he kicks the pile of bouquets, scattering them across the roof.

“Funerals seem grim, but I understand they are supposed to be a celebration of life.” ‘Star looks at the kicked flowers before tentatively picking up the lone red rose. He’s surprised he can touch it. “Back on Mojoworld there were no funerals. No celebrations of life.” Just dying bloody and then being forgotten. The Cadre burned the bodies of their fallen, but it was more out of respect than remembrance.

“Who brought you this flower?” He extends the rose to Ric.

Ric meets his eyes. He looks so sad that ‘Star almost breaks the rule he set down about touching; he wants so badly to hug him, to hold him close and tell him things are going to be alright.

“You,” Ric says, then sighs. “Or… that’s what I thought, anyway. But it’s dumb. I know you don’t go for stuff like that. Shit, neither did I, so I don’t know why it’s here now. Don’t know why it means that much to me.”

“It is not foolish,” ‘Star tells him, and he believes as much. The thought of it, the thought of truly having to say goodbye to Ric makes his heart ache somehow worse than it already does. He brings the rose close to his chest. “Had I known, I would have brought you a flower like this. I would have come to visit you every day.” He blinks a tear away. “But you were not gone. I believed in the strength of your spirit. I still do. That is why I am here.”

Ric’s eyes are wide and shiny when he looks back at him. “It’s… it’s really you, isn’t it?” he says, hope finally rising in his voice now that he’s too overcome with emotion to suppress it. “You really came all the way here just for me?”

Cautiously, Ric reaches out. His hand is shaking. His fingers find the petals of the rose first and then follow it down to where ‘Star’s hand is holding it. He’s real, solid and there; they both are. Ric covers ‘Star’s hand with both of his own. He feels warm.

“You came back for me,” he repeats, tears welling in his eyes. “Just like you always do. Oh, ‘Star, I’m so sorry I ever doubted you -”

‘Star doesn’t say anything else, the rose dropping to the ground and then vanishing altogether as he pulls Ric close and hugs him tight. He buries his face in his hair, unable to hold back the tears now. “I wanted so desperately to find you here.” He swallows down a sob. Usually he is more composed than this, but he can’t help himself. He feels like he’s been trying not to cry for weeks.

Ric hugs him back even tighter, clinging to him now that he knows he’s real. “I’m here,” he reassures him. His voice is muffled. ‘Star realizes he’s probably holding him too tightly, but he can’t bring himself to stop. “Don’t cry, ‘Star, it’s okay. You found me. I’m here.”

“I am so sorry I did not find you sooner.” ‘Star shakes his head, not wanting to let go, not wanting to be apart from Ric a moment longer than he has to be. “I know you would rather me not see you this way… but I am so grateful to be seeing you at all. I do not care.” He finally pulls back to look at Ric properly. 

“Yeah, well…” Ric shrugs, sniffling and rubbing at his eyes. “I looked way worse when I first got here, anyway. Probably better that you got here when you did. Gave me some time to… y’know, pull myself together.” He looks uneasy for a second, and then it passes. “Hey, look,” he says, artfully changing the subject. “All the flowers are gone.”

He’s right. There’s nothing left of them, not even a single petal. “I think this may be the key,” ‘Star says. It’s cryptic even to him, but he attempts to clarify. “If this place is of your own subconscious construction, we may be able to work through all these artifacts and find a way down.” He wipes his damp cheeks with the back of his hand. “I believe it might be - as you would say - worth a shot?”

“Yeah,” Ric nods, seeming a little more confident. Then that confidence wavers when ‘Star’s words finally reach him. “Wait, down? As in down through the building?” He steps back, glancing nervously at the door. “I don’t think we wanna do that,” he says. “Can’t you hear them?”

‘Star couldn’t, at least not until Ric mentioned it. Now, though… he can hear voices, unintelligible but clearly frantic, clearly angry. Someone or something is beating at that door with their fists - multiple someones, from the sound of it. Whatever is in the building below wants to get out - or wants to make sure he and Rictor can’t get in. Suddenly he remembers the flickering lights and the faces pressed to the windows, the anguish in their expressions and the agony. He shivers.

“I hear them.” Though he wishes he didn’t. “But I believe it might be the only way.” Something tells him he’s right, that the way he arrived here isn’t a way they can both go. “I will be with you.” He takes Ric’s hand again, lacing their fingers together. “And I am stronger for it. I am afraid that the longer we linger here the worse off we may be.” Is Limbo wise to their escape plan? He would not be surprised if this place was actually sentient. ‘Star glances to the side to locate his dropped swords but they are nowhere to be found. That… may present a problem.

Rictor appears to have been thinking along the same lines. “Uh… you came here armed, right?” he asks. ‘Star gives him a shrug. “Right, ‘cause my powers… I haven’t felt them since I got here. I don’t know whether it’s ‘cause we’re not on Earth, or what. But wait, maybe I can…” Ric closes his eyes, pressing his fingers to his temples. He looks focused, and then he looks frustrated. 

He opens his eyes again. “Nothing?” He huffs. “Yeah, I didn’t think that would work. Well… whatever. I don’t have any swords up here, but there is this.” He wanders over to the bed, with its odd, multicoloured cover. Reaching under the pillow, he pulls out a weapon. It’s a gun - just a small pistol, but the way Ric holds it suggests that its emotional weight may be far greater than its physical one. 

“This is,” Ric begins to explain as he inspects the pistol, sliding the magazine out and then back in again, “the first gun I ever held. First I ever shot, too. I was ten years old.”

‘Star stares at it, feeling the weight of its significance washing over him. Sometimes he forgets just how similar he and Ric truly are. The weapon he received when he was a child was a crude sword, fashioned sharp and jagged. It isn't the same as what Ric has in his hand now, but the sentiment is. 

Suddenly there is a weight on his palm and he grips it instinctively. That sword, his first sword, is far smaller than he remembers it, a child’s weapon in an adult’s hand. The hilt is wrapped in cloth, bloody at the ends, and the blade seems more suited for butchery than the art of a true swordsman. He’s come so far from the place he was when he wielded this weapon, and somehow he’s ashamed that Ric even has to look upon it.

“Is that…” Ric starts to say.

“The first weapon I was ever given.” ‘Star tests the weight of it in his hand. “The other slaves and I fought over what we were given. This looked the most dangerous, so it was mine. I fought for it. Later, I killed with it.” He stops himself. He remembers it clearly, suddenly, like someone wants him to relive it. Cameras and people cheering in alien languages. A bright light on his face and tears in his eyes. The head of his opponent gripped by its hair in one hand and this sword in other. 

He shakes his head to pull himself from the thought, but suddenly he feels different as well. When he looks down, the blade is large in his hand once more. 

“Julio, what is this?” The pitch of his voice when he speaks is much higher than he’s used to and it startles him, but it also tells him what he needs to know. Somehow he’s that child again, the frightened boy who stepped out of the arena after that first day, soaked in blood.

“I don’t -” Ric’s voice breaks on the second syllable, and he stops talking, embarrassed. “I don’t know,” he says, and ‘Star gets the distinct impression that he’s trying to make his voice deeper. He doesn’t have to look at Rictor to know that the same changes have taken place in him. 

“This happens here,” Ric explains. “Or at least it’s been happening to me. When I got here, I was... I looked different. Then I was me again, but other stuff changed. My clothes, my hair. I was in a suit for a while, with my hair cut all short. That was when the flowers showed up. I think that’s what they might have dressed me in for the -” He stops talking abruptly, pulling a face. “Anyway, I guess we’re young again now.” He looks at the gun. “Probably has something to do with this, and that sword of yours.”

‘Star looks down at his hands and then the sword again. “You… you’ve never seen me like this before.” He’s suddenly awash in shame. He doesn’t have fond memories of his childhood. Before he reached his teens, before he came to Earth, he was less of a human and more of a _thing_. Right now, Rictor isn’t looking at Shatterstar. He’s looking at Gaveedra-7, the person he was before he was even a person at all. “I am sorry.” 

He wishes Ric would stop looking, but he doesn’t. “What are you sorry for?” Ric asks. Try as he might to mask it, his voice is noticeably high-pitched. He’s smaller, obviously; his hair is a mess of curls, and his eyes are wide and dark, prominent on his youthful face. “I’m like this too, remember? And, yeah, it’s totally weird, but what about this place isn’t?” He sits down on the bed, beckoning ‘Star over. “Come and sit down. Tell me about the sword.”

‘Star glances over at Ric and takes a breath, straightening up a bit. He’s still ashamed and uneasy, but it would be foolish if he gave Rictor advice and than rebuffed the same from him. He walks over to him slowly, feeling stranger with every step. His boots feel too tight and his outfit is a patchwork of clothing and belts and ill-fitting armor. ‘Star sits on the bed next to Ric and lays his sword on his lap. “I slaughtered my first opponent in the arena with this sword. I was terrified. When I gained the upper hand I did not stop until he had been decapitated. It took… minutes.”

Ric stays quiet, hearing him out until he’s sure he’s finished speaking. Then he squeezes his shoulder lightly, comfortingly. “You were scared,” he says. “It’s okay. I know what that’s like. Usually you either fight or you freeze up, but… I’m assuming they didn’t give you much of a choice.” His hand slips from ‘Star’s shoulder, but finds his hand instead, slowly interlacing their fingers. Even as they are now, ‘Star’s hands are still so much larger than Julio’s. 

“You did what you had to. If you hadn’t, you never would’ve made it to Earth, we never would’ve met, and you wouldn’t be with me now.” He shifts towards him, just enough that their shoulders are touching. “Still… I’m sorry. You never told me about that before, so I guess it must hurt.”

“I was not allowed to feel hurt,” ‘Star informs him.

Ric’s grip tightens on his hand. “But you felt it anyway.”

“I suppose,” ‘Star says, and he realizes he’s only just coming to terms with it now. “Yes.” And then he chuckles. His voice still high pitched, and it sounds more like a giggle even if he doesn’t mean it to. “It is foolish of me to be so embarrassed. You have already seen me as a child, and yet this is different.” He pushes his hair back out of his face with his free hand, a tangle of strawberry blond waves and braids. “Thank you for talking about it with me.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Ric says, taking ‘Star’s hand and draping his arm around his shoulders. “I just told you my entire tragic backstory up here. I’m probably not even done yet. It’s only fair that I listen to yours too.” He turns to ‘Star, smiling to show that he’s joking. “I love you, man. You know you can tell me anything.” Then he laughs nervously, turning away. “I, uh, I feel like I wanna kiss you, but I think that would be weird right now, so I’m just gonna wait.” He turns his attention back to the gun instead. 

“Growing up, I saw a lot of these,” he says. ‘Star can already hear his voice changing, as though the weight on them both is lifting, ready to let them change back. “All the older guys - my brothers, cousins, uncles - carried guns. When my dad gave me this one, I thought, wow, I’m finally growing up. Finally gonna be a man, not just a kid. Finally gonna get people to respect me. I practiced with it, learned how to shoot. Got pretty good at it too. Then about a year later, when I was eleven… these guys showed up at our house. They were sayin’ my dad screwed them over on some deal, and when he went out to talk to them about it, they… started shooting. I was at the window. I watched. My cousin Omar was with me, and he said: _Juli, you’re a better shot than any of these guys. We should be out there fighting back._ ” 

Ric sighs, shifting more of that weight off his chest. “I didn’t do anything. Couldn’t. I was so scared, I just froze up, and I… watched.” He shakes his head. “It’s funny. I used to feel so bad about that, so guilty, but… even if I went out there, it wouldn’t have changed anything. I’d just be dead like him.”

‘Star isn’t sure how, but in the blink of an eye he and Ric are back to being themselves, their current selves. He’s grateful for it even though the sword in his lap is still there. “Everything you did to distance yourself from your family, you needed to do. When you returned to Mexico for the first time, you advised me that you walked away because you wanted to be a better man. You did not have to become a better man, Julio. You always were. As honor-bound as I believed I was when I arrived on Earth, it was you who taught me what real honor looked like.” He can’t believe he’s never shared that with Ric before. It makes him sad in a way. “I thought you should know that.”

Ric kisses him. His lips are warm, just like his hands, and familiar in a way that makes him ache. He kisses him quick at first, then comes back for a second kiss, and then a third, and then one last one, longer and deeper than the rest. When he finally pulls away, his face is damp with tears. “Man,” he says, and his voice is almost hoarse with emotion, so far removed from how it sounded a minute ago. “The stuff you say to me…”

“It is all the truth. You are why I am not that boy any longer. Why I am not the person you met at the beginning of our journey together.” He presses his forehead to Ric’s and shuts his eyes. “We should leave. Face whatever is awaiting us so we can finally go home.”

Ric nods just slightly. The tip of his nose rubs against ‘Star’s; his hair tickles ‘Star’s face. “Okay.” He pulls back, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “Your scar is gone,” he says, tracing his fingers over the space where it used to be on ‘Star’s chest.

“Yes. Thank you.” ‘Star knows that it was Ric’s doing even if he doesn’t realize it. “Let us go.” He places his hand over Ric’s on his chest, feeling it warm on his skin before taking the sword in his lap and standing. “I think you may need to lead the way.”

Ric stands up too, tucking the gun into his belt. With nobody left to sit on it, the bed seems to fade out of existence; only the cover is left, and then that’s gone too, carried aloft on a sudden gust of wind and lost over the side of the building before either of them can catch it. Ric looks a little disappointed. 

“That was my bed from when I was a kid,” he explains. “My mom knitted that blanket for me.” And then he sighs. “I get it, though. You can’t go back, right?” He looks at the door to the stairwell. A few items still dot the path between it and them, but ‘Star knows it won’t take long to move past them. As for what lies in wait behind that door… well, he supposes they’ll confront that when they come to it. “Okay. Let’s go.”

‘Star takes Ric’s hand, but lets him walk first. The items that they pass by on the way to the door are familiar now even if they weren’t when he first glanced at them. The television is the one from the rec room that he and Ric watched together almost religiously. It looks almost broken here, but as they pass it it fades away just like everything else. Another memory left behind. The tape deck is the same, something familiar between them. Songs they sang to together in the car they always used on stake out missions. Good memories, all of them, but only memories. Soon they’re gone and there is nothing left but that door.

He wishes whatever is behind it had vanished like everything else on the roof, but it hasn’t. Something is still pounding at the door, wailing to be let out.

Ric approaches it cautiously, leaning in to try and look through the crack at the side. A particularly loud banging noise makes him flinch, but he perseveres, squinting to try and see what’s beyond the door.

Then he stumbles back, shaking his head. “No,” he says, obviously shaken. “No way, man, I am _not_ opening that door. We need to find another way out. Maybe we could -”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish that sentence. The door opens by itself.

Half a dozen people stagger out, almost falling over each other. They look… dead. Dead and still screaming. Their clothes are ragged and their bodies and faces are marked by burns, scrapes, fractures and broken bones.

“No,” he hears Ric gasp. “Get away from us - get away or I swear I’ll -”

‘Star acts before Ric gets a chance to finish that sentence. He kicks the first person square in the chest sending them hurtling back toward the second. When they collide he takes the opportunity to plunge the jagged old sword into both of them, the metal sliding through them easily. ‘Star rips it out in a spectacular spray of gore before grabbing the next closest monster and yanking it back by its arm before cutting its head clean off. 

“Julio,” he says, voice level and collected. “Focus on me.” He is good at this. Good at fighting. Even better if he can point his rage directly at Ric’s anxieties. There are more of the monsters stumbling onto the rooftop with every passing second, however, and he’s going to need Ric’s help. “Let your fear go. They are not human.”

“They are,” Ric says, still backing away. “They were. These people were on that plane and I was meant to save them, but I couldn’t, and now they’re - woah!” He almost trips over one of the vents on the roof as one of the people lunges towards him. He finds his feet, though, and pulls the gun from his belt, aiming and firing at his attacker. “I’m sorry!” he says, distraught. “I didn’t wanna do that. I didn’t mean to hurt anybody. I -”

‘Star tries not to flinch at the sound of the gunshot, knowing exactly what I means for Ric to fire that gun. He moves quickly to his side, cutting a path through their attackers. Bloody as he may be, he takes Ric’s hand. “It was not your fault.” ‘Star says it slowly. He can feel that Ric is trembling. “What did you tell me just a moment ago? That I had no choice but to fight when my life was on the line? You cannot save everyone.”

“But these are just people,” Ric panics. “And there were so many of them, ‘Star. There wasn’t an empty seat in the plane. And - oh god, there’s more of them coming up the stairs.” He holds the gun with shaking hands as more people pour out of the doorway. “Stop!” he shouts at them. ‘Star isn’t sure if he’s warning them or begging them. “Please stop. I didn’t mean to let that happen to you. I wanted to help you! I couldn’t do it, but I tried,” he insists. “I _tried._ ”

‘Star raises his blade in anticipation of another attack, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Ric’s words seem to bring pause to the people by the doorway. Slowly, their features begin to change again, morphing from gruesome and corpse-like to human, just human. He notes the expressions on their faces - sad but serene, as though they’d all reached the same understanding. Then a breeze blows over the rooftop, and in a flurry of ash and paper tickets, they fade away.

Ric slowly lowers his weapon. “They… weren’t real either,” he realizes, unsettled but relieved. “Thank god.”

“You tried.” ‘Star repeats Ric’s words to him. “And that is all that any of us can do in an impossible situation.” There is more to it than that, but ‘Star knows that Ric understands. At the very least, he seems to be realizing it now. 

All at once, the blood that stained his hands and his chest is gone. “This is another impossible situation, but I am here. Let me carry some of this burden for you. Please.” He reaches out a hand and looks toward the darkness waiting for them through the door.

Ric slips the gun back into his belt and reaches out to take ‘Star’s hand. It looks like the lights have stopped flickering, at least on the top floor. Now it’s just dark.

“Uh…” Ric takes a hesitant step forward, leading ‘Star through the door. “Can we get some lights on in here? Is there a switch, or…?” He feels around the wall beside the doorway, and finds a switch, but flicking it yields no results. “Alright. Guess we’re in the dark. Just alone in the dark, with whatever else this place wants to throw at me. Cool.”

“It will be okay. There is nothing else in this room.” ‘Star gestures with his sword hand to his opaque eye. He never usually has to see in the dark like this, but it has proved useful in limbo. “It is a straight path to the door on the other side.” He squeezes Ric’s hand in reassurance.

“You… can see in the dark?” Ric asks him. ‘Star doesn’t have to see him to imagine the expression on his face. “How did I not know that? Wait… all those times we fooled around with the lights off ‘cause I was too nervous to let you look at me…”

“Would you have initiated it if you would have known I could see you?” ‘Star raises an eyebrow at him. He knows Ric can’t see it, but the gesture still holds meaning. “I am sorry that I never told you, but you never asked.”

“Typical,” Ric snorts. “And I dunno,” he adds, with a shrug. “I was pretty self-conscious back then. I mean, sure, I’d still initiate stuff, but I would’ve been pretty embarrassed about it.” He’s following ‘Star’s lead as they cross the room, more confident in the dark now that he has a guide. 

“We were both young, but I always enjoyed whatever we did together. No matter if the lights were on or if they were off.” ‘Star chuckles a little, more in response to Ric’s own laugh than anything. “If I am being honest, I enjoyed being able to see you even though you thought you were hiding from me.” 

It doesn’t take long to reach the other side of the room and once they are there, ‘Star lets Ric attempt to take the lead again.

“I wasn’t _hiding_ ,” Ric says, affronted. “I was just… okay, maybe I was hiding. Can you blame me? It’s kinda hard to be around someone as hot as you without feeling at least a little bit inadequate.”

“All of this time together, and you still cannot see that you are just as attractive as I am?” ‘Star is still teasing him. It helps to lighten the mood. The weight on his chest has lessened at least for the time being. At his most ego-driven, ‘Star knows that the only person who was every truly a match for him is Rictor. “If we had met back on Mojoworld, I suspect that you would have been my designated partner if only for your looks, not to mention your destructive capabilities.” He’s stalling a bit, giving them time to catch their breath before they face whatever nightmare is behind the next door.

“Designated partner?” Ric repeats, as they take the stairs to the next floor. “What, like, fighting partner? Or…”

He falls silent as he opens the door to the next room. ‘Star peers in over his head to observe the scene before them.

The lights are flickering again. This floor is full of people too, only this time they look alive, and human. They’re all standing stock-still, staring at Ric and himself with unchanging expressions. All of them are holding guns, and all of the guns are pointed right at Rictor.

‘Star raises his sword again. “Step aside,” he says, ready to shield Ric from whatever is coming. “I will handle this.”

“No,” Ric says, stopping him with a hand on his chest. “Don’t hurt them. I don’t think that’s what this is about.”

‘Star grits his teeth and looks from Ric to all of the men pointing guns at him. He wonders if this is some sort of test. Ric seems to think it is. 

“What do you propose, then?” He doesn’t like being threatened, but maybe this place knows that. 

Ric swallows hard. “I think we just have to walk through,” he says. “Stare ‘em down, and show that we’re not afraid. Here,” he holds out his hand. “Take my hand again. Let’s go.”

‘Star takes it, and Ric leads him on.

“When I was really little,” Ric explains, walking cautiously, “my father took me on a business trip. ‘Course, you know what his business was. We were stopped by the authorities, had to wait around in lockup for a day before some of his contacts convinced ‘em to let us out.” As they walk, the men around them keep their guns trained on Ric. It’s clearly making him nervous, but he doesn’t falter. “Then there was the meeting. There was a bunch of guys there, and one of ‘em asked me if I knew what my father was selling. I said no. I would’ve been, what, eight years old? And this guy, he opens the crate and he pulls out this gun. Points it right at me. He says: take a good look, kid - you’re starin’ down the barrel of your own future.” Ric shakes his head. “That was him, by the door. Big dude with the glasses. Fuck, that used to scare me so much. I’d wake up from nightmares where I was just standing there, waiting for someone to pull the trigger.”

“But it wasn’t your future,” ‘Star tells him. He continues to follow along, listening but staring down these men that continue to threaten them so boldly. “You liberated yourself from that life.” The story is familiar to him. “We are far more similar than I had ever realized before.”

“Yeah?” Ric considers it. “I guess maybe we are.” He looks like he’s about to say something else, but then they reach the end of the room and his grip on ‘Star’s hand tightens suddenly. “Oh,” Ric says, staring ahead. “Oh, shit.”

‘Star looks up to face the man standing between them and the door.

“I’m disappointed in you, _mijo,_ ” the man says.

Ric’s jaw tenses. “You’re just… gonna go right ahead and say it, huh?” He sighs. “Alright.”

‘Star studies the man’s face, searching for some hint of familiarity. He finds it in the man’s eyes - tired, but alert - and in the broadness of his nose, the cleft of his chin, the width of his shoulders despite his short stature. “Julio, is that -”

“Yeah,” Ric says. “Hey, Dad.”

Ric’s father does not greet him in turn. “You have a lot of nerve,” he says, “standing before me after what you’ve done. Your mother warned me, you know. She worried about you. Said if I didn’t get you away from those books, you’d never grow up right. You’d keep filling your head up with those stupid fairy tales when you should be learning to make it in the real world. And now here you are, with all these men threatening you - _insulting_ you - and you won’t even raise your gun to fight them. You just walked up to me, holding hands with this - this _boy._ ” His disdain is as evident in his voice as it is in his expression. “ _Ay._ How did I ever raise a son like you?”

‘Star can feel Ric’s hand trembling again, but he doesn’t let go.

“You didn’t,” Ric says. He doesn’t raise his voice, but he’s angry, clearly angry. “You didn’t raise me like this. You didn’t raise me at all. You hurt me,” he tells him, voice cracking on the second last syllable. “You scared me, and you tried to make me ashamed of who I was… but I’m not ashamed anymore. I ain’t scared, either. Not of those guys, and not of you.”

The room roars to life with the sound of a hundred gunshots, all at once.

Ric squeezes his hand, and ‘Star squeezes back. He braces himself for the impact, but nothing happens; nothing hurts them. When the smoke clears he’s still standing, and so is Ric.

With his head held high and his hand still in ‘Star’s, Rictor faces his father for the last time, and walks right through him towards the door.

“Are you alright?” Ric seems to have solved this problem and faced his fears, but he doubts he’s unaffected by it. ‘Star suspects that this particular scenario had crossed his partner's mind more than once, but he seemed ready for it. He knew what needed to be done. Still, it couldn’t have been easy. “Perhaps that is a silly question, but…”

“Yeah,” Ric says. “I didn’t think I would be, but… yeah. Look, he wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. He always treated me like that. Made fun of me for staying inside and reading books all the time. Got mad at me if I ran into trouble at school. It was like he had a problem with everything I did, everything I was - the way I spoke, the people I was friends with, everything. I used to get upset about it - used to cry all the time, when I was a kid. That just made him angrier. He always said I was gonna end up like this.”

“This?” ‘Star asks.

“Y’know, like… gay. Into dudes.” Ric stops in the middle of the staircase, turning to face him. “I don’t know why that used to scare me so much. I mean, being with you, telling the truth about it to everyone and to myself - that’s probably the bravest thing I ever did.” He smiles up at him, confident and proud. “And I feel so safe now, with you. All that shit back there… it just doesn’t scare me anymore.”

“I am glad.” It seems like too short of an answer, but ‘Star could not possibly describe the way hearing Ric make all these confessions makes him feel. He’s always been poor with words, with translating his feelings, ones he used to have no name for, into coherent thoughts. It used to make him angry, just like everything else. A flaw in a design that was meant to be perfect. Perfect and cold and unfeeling. Breaking away from that was the hardest thing he’s ever done. He thought he was unique in his problems, alone in his feelings, but now he’s starting to see the similarities between his past and Rictor’s. Just another thing they have in common, then.

“Thank you,” Ric tells him. “For being there for me - with me. I don’t know if I could’ve got through all that on my own.”

“I do not lend you strength, simply support.” ‘Star shakes his head. “Forgive me for sounding like I am quoting something but… the power seems to have been inside of you all along.” He pointedly presses a finger to Ric’s chest. “Are you ready to continue?”

Ric chuckles. “Yeah,” he says. “Come on.”

Ric pushes the door open with ease and when they step through, something in ‘Star’s stomach drops immediately. The lights flicker out, blanketing the room in darkness. When they come on again, the room is no longer an office but a terminal in a busy airport. 

‘Star blinks a few times. It doesn’t take long to register where they are. _When_ they are. ‘Star takes a deep breath. Crowds like this used to make him nervous, and now it seems he’s nervous again. He realizes the sword in his hand is gone, its crude hilt replaced by the handle of a wooden case instead. He recognizes that immediately as well. 

They are back in the airport, the same age they were when Ric had first left him. Maybe it’s a trick, an effect of the dimension they’re in, but ‘Star feels that same pain as though it were fresh.

“This is…” Ric doesn’t need to finish the sentence. He’s changed to match the scene too. His hair is long, like it was when they were teenagers. His travel bag is slung over his shoulder, filled with whatever it was he saw fit to take with him the first time he left their team to go back home. It’s not a very large bag. In retrospect, that should have suggested that he was never planning on staying away from ‘Star for too long, but that isn’t how it felt at the time. ‘Star remembers the sting of it even now.

“When you left me,” ‘Star finishes for him. It comes out sounding accusatory, even though he doesn’t mean for it to. He can’t hide from the truth of it. As if on instinct he tucks a stand of hair behind his ear, his loose ponytail spilling red waves across his shoulder. Ahead of them a queue has formed, moving towards the gate. He wonders if they’re supposed to follow. It’s a strange sensation, watching a part of his life play out in front of him. Like watching a movie he already knows the ending to, and dreading it anyway.

“I didn’t leave you,” Ric says instinctively. “I just - hey!” Someone in the crowd of people around them bumps into him, almost making him drop his duffel bag. “Watch it!”

But nobody in the crowd seems to listen. Someone walks swiftly past ‘Star, her handbag colliding with ‘Star’s sword case. He frowns at her, but she just keeps walking. He turns to say something about it to Rictor, but just as he does, someone shoves Ric from behind, making him stumble and almost fall. 

‘Star reaches out to help him up, but now there are people trying to walk in between them too, pushing them back, forcing them apart.

“Julio!” He reaches out again, but Ric is unsecured again for a moment and he can’t quite get to him. What is this, he wonders? Is this another of Rictor’s nightmares, or is it his own? It may as well be. Ric left him here and now they are being pushed apart again. It’s a fear of his, an impulsive one that he’s never quite been able to shake. “I do not know what this place is trying to tell us.” He raises his voice to say it, shouting over the noise of the packed terminal. It seems to be getting louder in here.

“I dunno either!” Ric yells back. “Are you doin’ this? I mean, it hurt to leave you like that, but you seemed more cut up about it than I did!”

‘Star almost flinches at Ric’s words. Of course he was upset. How could he have been anything else? Ric told him before he left that he had other friends and that he would be fine, but he wasn’t fine. 

Another person elbows him in the jaw and ‘Star hisses in anger. “I was upset!” he shouts back to Ric. “We’d spent all that time fostering our relationship and then you left and I was alone. No one else understood me the way you did. I loved you and you ran away.” His heart clenches in his chest and he presses a hand to it, people crowding him from all directions now. He doesn’t know where these words are coming from… how long he’s kept everything inside.

“I didn’t mean -” Ric gets cut off mid-sentence when someone basically tackles him, catching him around the waist and pulling him back as the crowd swarms around him, piling onto him. He almost disappears underneath them, and ‘Star is helpless to stop it because he, too, keeps being dragged away.

“Get your damn hands off me!” Ric’s voice rings out seconds before a shockwave of energy emanates from his point in the room. ‘Star perks up. His powers must be back. “Get off. Get away from me,” he snarls, fighting his way out of the pile of dazed travellers. A man tries to drag him back down and Ric punches him square in the jaw, wrenching his arm back out of his grip and stumbling past the people on the ground towards ‘Star. 

“I get it now,” he calls out to him. “I let other people get between us. My family, sure, but also the team - our friends, and Cable and Dom too. I was so freaked out about how I felt towards you, and I didn’t know what to do about it, so I ran away. I was selfish - I got so caught up in my own problems that I didn’t see how much you needed me.” He’s still pushing people aside, fighting his way through to get to ‘Star. “I’m sorry. I’m not gonna leave you again, ‘Star.”

“I was so lost when you left,” ‘Star tells him. He feels the ache of it inside of him just the same as he did that day. His voice is quiet, being swallowed up but the noise around him until everything quiets and the people freeze. “I was so… angry.” His eyes are narrowed slightly when he looks at Ric. He’s never really admitted it to himself before and especially not to Rictor. “I do not want to be angry. Not at you.”

“It’s okay,” Ric says, reaching out for him. He helps him up, pulling him to his feet. “It’s okay to be angry. I fucked up. I left you here and I didn’t even take the time to tell you why. Doesn’t matter if I have an excuse for it. It still hurt, didn’t it?” He reaches up to cup ‘Star’s face with his hand, wiping away a tear that ‘Star didn’t even notice he had shed. “It’s okay, beautiful. I’m with you now. I’m never gonna leave you again.”

‘Star finally feels the tears now, one that Rictor wiped and then another and another. One drops onto the floor and then suddenly the people around them are gone. “I never told you.” He sounds just as suddenly ashamed as he feels. “That after you left I got so reckless that I allowed myself to be shot.” He takes a shaky breath out, cheeks still stained with tears. “Maybe I thought that if I allowed myself to get hurt, you might come back.” That never happened, but Ric did return to him when he needed him. “I should have told you about this all sooner.”

“No,” Ric says, drawing him close for a hug. “That’s the thing, ‘Star. I think I knew in the back of my mind that I was hurting you, and when I came back, I could tell how mad you were at me... and how confused you must have been about it all. I just never said anything about it, ‘cause even after I came back I didn’t know how to justify it to you. I guess I still can’t. I wish I hadn’t left you like that.”

“We…” ‘Star starts and then he swallows hard and shuts his eyes. “We can’t linger in the past.” It’s something that is easier said than done. So much of their relationship lies in memories. Some more fond than others. Still, if Rictor is here with him now, should it matter where they have been? “Whatever you did, whatever _I_ did… we are not those people any longer.” He kisses Ric quickly, chastely.

“Sure,” Ric says once they part, “but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t go back and say sorry to that guy I left at the airport.” His hands rest on ‘Star’s chest for a moment, over his heart, before he steps away. “I think we’re done here,” he says, looking around. The terminal is empty now. “We should move on.”

‘Star takes his hand and they move towards the door.

They don’t get far before Ric hesitates. He glances at the windows, as though expecting to see something outside, but it’s dark.

“What is it?” ‘Star asks, alert.

“I don’t know,” Ric admits, sounding uneasy. “I just got the weirdest feeling… like vertigo, except different. I think it’s ‘cause my powers are back now, but… it felt like we just moved closer to the ground. Like, way closer. And fast.”

“We were several storeys up,” ‘Star theorizes, “but time and space seem to move differently here. Perhaps the building is… adjusting, now that we have passed some of its trials.”

“Then that’s a good thing,” Ric says, far too eager to believe it. “Right?”

But ‘Star doesn’t feel like it’s a good thing. From the look on Ric’s face, he can tell that Ric doesn’t either.

“Whatever the next obstacle is, we will move though it together.” That is one thing he can be certain of. He did not come all this way to stay stranded here. Even if being stranded here with Rictor is preferable to living life on earth without him. He keeps that particular thought to himself. 

When they get close enough, ‘Star can see that this door is different. It’s red and is adorned with a house number on it. _1987_ , hung in gold in the middle. He doesn’t recognize the door or the significance of the number, but the instinct to turn away from it and run is all too familiar to him. Something is wrong here.

Ric is squinting at it. “I don’t…” he starts, then shakes his head. “I don’t recognize that. Is this one of your memories? Does it mean anything to you?”

“No,” ‘Star says, but Ric doesn’t seem to hear him.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ric says. He lets go of ‘Star’s hand and reaches for the handle of the door.

He steps through before ‘Star can stop him. Suddenly ‘Star is frozen in place, hand outstretched as he tries, but fails, to reach him. The roar of static fills his ears and the room turns black.

Seconds later, a light flashes in front of his eyes, but it’s not natural. It’s the blue-tinged glow of an old television screen.

He peers into it as the static gives way to a picture. It’s the interior of a house, a handsome older-style place with modern decor, the kind he’s seen in a hundred different family sitcoms and soap operas.

Rictor is standing just inside the doorway.

\--

Shatterstar is nowhere to be seen.

“‘Star?” Ric calls out, turning in a circle as he looks around the room. He doesn’t know whose house this is, but there’s something oddly familiar about it. Probably something he’s seen on television, he thinks. The soundstage house of some unrealistically happy couple or unconvincingly functional family unit.

It’s empty, though. He calls for ‘Star again, quieter this time, confused, but there’s no response. He feels the sudden itch of annoyance. They were doing so well. They seemed so close to getting out of here, and then…

“Juli?”

Ric jumps at the sound of a voice from behind him. When he looks over his shoulder he sees her on the staircase - not the person he was expecting, but not unfamiliar either.

“Tabitha?”

She crosses the room and plants a big kiss squarely on his lips.

“So formal all of a sudden,” she giggles, while he gapes at her. “What? What’s gotten up your ass all of a sudden?”

“Uh…” He blinks. “Nothing. Have you seen Shatterstar?”

She laughs again. “What’s that? Some video game or something?” She bumps him with her hip as she walks past him, heading toward the kitchen. “Are you gonna be camped out on the living room couch for a week again? ‘Cause you don’t have time. They want you to make an appearance at Xavier’s, remember? Something about making a speech, y’know, since it’s the end of the year and all. Then you’ve got that mission over in LA… top secret, right?” She’s at the counter, pulling bottles off the shelf and pouring them into two glasses.

He frowns, moving to the other side of the bench, trying to catch her attention. “Tabby, I’m…” Confused. He needs to know where ‘Star is… 

Or maybe he needs to know _who_ ‘Star is? Now that he thinks about it, it was an odd question. Why would someone else be in their house?

“Busy,” Tabby finishes his sentence for him. “I know. But you knew what you were getting into when they offered you this job.” She hands him a drink. “Leader of the X-Men, right? Totally badass.” She clinks her glass against his. “I’m totally proud of you, though. It’s like, there he is - there’s my husband, out saving the world again.”

“Your -” Ric starts, but his words catch in his throat, and he tries to wash them down with the drink. Something isn’t right here, but he can’t for the life of him figure out what. “Right,” he says, shaking his head. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I’m just - I’m a little out of it. Probably ‘cause I’m busy, like you said.”

“Uh-huh,” she says. She’s already finished her drink, and is currently refilling it. There seems to be an awful lot of vodka in there. “What were you talking about before, anyway?”

“I…” Ric is trying to think. “I don’t know,” he says, feeling a twinge of frustration. “A person?”

“A person,” Tabby repeats after him. “With a name like _Shatterstar_?”

“Hey, we’ve known some weird people over the years,” Ric points out. “Heard some bad code-names. Like that girl, Skids?”

Tabby snorts. “Yeah,” she says. “And, like, _everyone_ on Cable’s team. I mean, Cannonball? Siryn? Domino? What were we thinking?”

“I dunno,” Ric says. He doesn’t. Now he’s trying to think too. Cable. Domino. Siryn… No. Real names. Real people. Theresa. Sam. Tabby. Maria. Jimmy. Berto. Julio. Julio and…

“Something’s not right,” Ric says, and suddenly he’s feeling weird again. Uneasy, like something about what’s happening here is just _wrong._ Maybe everything about it.

“What’s wrong?” Tabitha asks him. Something flashes over her face - confusion, perhaps, or maybe sadness. Hopelessness. Then it’s gone just as quickly.

No, Ric thinks. This isn’t right. Him and Tabby - they’re not right. He loves her, sure, but he never loved her like that. Never loved any girl like that, now that he thinks about it.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he realizes, and once he says it out loud he’s certain. “Someone’s waiting for me.” There’s a vision in his head now, and it comes quick. He’s never recalled a face so fast, but he knows this one well. A second later, he puts a name to it.

“I’m sorry, Tabs,” he says, pushing away from the counter. “I think I have to go now.”

The look is back on her face. “Are you sure?” she asks him. She sounds tense. “You’d be happy here, you know. You’ve got everything going for you.”

“Maybe,” he says. “But this isn’t me.” He looks at her properly, sees the way her smile doesn’t quite make it to her eyes. “And I don’t think it’s you, either.”

And that seems to comfort her. She smiles at him, reluctant but sincere. “Yeah,” she says. “I think I’ve got some stuff to work out.” She raises her hand and waves to him. The room is starting to fade around him, her included. Her voice sounds distant when she speaks again. “I’ll see you around, Ric.”

Then she’s gone, and the house is gone with her. He’s back in the tower again, in an empty floor the same as all the others he’s walked through. He knows what’s missing, though. He knows who.

“‘Star?” he asks hesitantly. The word feels familiar on his tongue. _Think,_ he tells himself. Think back to how things were. How things should be.

It’s not that everything was perfect. They had their apartment, with its cramped living room and the sounds of the city drifting in from outside at every hour of the night. They had their TV, and the ugly rug under the coffee table, and their couch, just big enough for the two of them. 

They had a stack of books that Ric never finished reading, and a wardrobe full of Ric’s torn jeans and ‘Star’s meticulously folded white shirts. They had a corkboard with photos on it, selfies where ‘Star is beaming, candids where Ric is laughing like an idiot. They had a cupboard full of chipped coffee cups, and a sandwich press that neither of them ever used, and a plastic bag full of other plastic bags. They had a bed and two pillows, one firm and one soft. They had a mailbox and a parking space and a signed lease with both their names on it. 

They had all of that, and he had ‘Star. He always had ‘Star. He remembers that now.

All of it materializes around him as he recalls it - the worn carpet, the too-loud wallpaper, the dishes still left in the sink. The couch is there, and the TV flickers on in front of it, and outside he can hear the city in all its noisy, overcrowded glory.

He makes his way over to the couch.

‘Star is there. Of course ‘Star is there. Where else would he be? 

“Julio.” He looks over his shoulder at him, but he doesn’t move. He’s sitting cross legged on the cushions, hair down in a wild tangle of red curls. He’s got a blanket draped over his shoulders and he pats the spot next to him. “I got separated from you and somehow ended up back here. It looks like home. Are we home?”

He leans in over the couch to kiss ‘Star on the cheek. “Not quite,” he says, “but I think we’re close.” Now that his mind is coming back to him, his powers kick back into gear and he can feel that they’re even closer to the ground than before. He’s not sure what’s going to be down there, but with ‘Star back at his side, he’s almost feeling confident that they can deal with it.

Together. Like they should be.

“What happened? I was pulled away from you… then I was watching the events transpire as if you were on television.” ‘Star shifts and turns to him properly. “I am unsure how I made it back here.”

Ric’s heart sinks. “You saw all that?” he asks. “Man, I’m sorry. I felt -” He shakes his head, shuddering at the memory of it. “Something happened in my head. It was like I stepped into that house and my entire past started rewriting itself, and all my memories were different. Nobody there knew who you were - it was like you were never even in that timeline. And then I almost -” He pauses as his voice cracks. 

“I almost forgot you,” he confesses. “That room - it wanted me to forget. It showed me something that was meant to be perfect, but it was just wrong. Everything’s wrong without you.”

He tries for a moment to read ‘Star’s expression. He expects sadness or disappointment that he was so easily swayed. But it’s not there. All he sees is relief. 

“You remembered. You remembered all of this. Our home.” Even if they aren’t really there, it’s never felt more like home then it does right now. “Even if we could not escape Limbo...I think I would be happy just being here with you.”

“Well,” Ric shrugs, “at least if we never make it outta here, we’ve got a backup plan.” He holds out his hand, and ‘Star takes it. “I think we’ve got a shot at it, though. Come on. We’re close to the end now, I can feel it.”

‘Star seems hesitant for a moment, like he doesn’t want to leave this place. Like his heart aches to be back home. Ric can almost feel it too. All it takes to bring him back is a gentle tug of his hand and then they are walking toward the apartment door. They turn the door handle together, and step out.

The heat is almost overpowering.

Wherever they are now, it’s not the city outside their apartment. Brooklyn never gets this hot, and as far as Ric remembers there’s no lava there either.

“Woah,” he breathes. They’re… well, they’re in hell, or somewhere close to it. The floor is a complex maze of rocky pathways and jagged outcroppings, sticking out at odd, impossible angles. Lava flows from the walls in every direction, moving completely contrary to gravity. His earth-sense is going haywire. Far above them, flocks of imp-like demons circle the rocky ceiling. 

“Did it look like this when you came in?” Ric asks. “You teleported here, didn’t you?”

“This is what I fought through.” It smells like fire and ash and it makes his stomach turn a little. “It was dangerous to teleport here without an anchor. It should be easier with your assistance.” ‘Star doesn’t sound entirely too confident. “Hopefully.”

Ric feels a sudden surge of affection towards him. He knows ‘Star’s journey here couldn’t have been easy, but seeing what this place is like outside of the tower brings a new kind of perspective. ‘Star went through hell for him. _Literally,_ this time.

‘Star loves him, Ric realizes, whether he thinks he deserves it or not. It’s never felt more real than this.

He wipes his eyes, and squeezes ‘Star’s hand a little more tightly. “We’re gonna go home,” he tells him. “We’ll be fine. I promise.” He focuses himself, thinking of their destination. Not the apartment, but Earth - somewhere, anywhere on Earth. His connection is strong. He knows they’ll find it. 

“Okay. Take us out of here.”

‘Star takes a deep breath. Ric sees his chest rise and fall with it. He shuts his eyes and Ric follows suit. There is a flare of light so bright he can even see it with his eyes closed, but he doesn’t open them and he doesn’t stop focusing on Earth. They’re so close he can almost feel it.

He hears ‘Star grunt in frustration and then he swears under his breath. “That… is a problem.” 

Ric slowly opens his eyes. The portal is still there, glowing bright white, but instead of being in front of them it’s fixed on the ceiling, hundreds of feet up. 

“I didn’t put it there,” Ric says. “Did I?”

“You did not put it there, no.” ‘Star tells him and his hand slips out of Ric’s. He sounds frustrated, but he knows it’s not because of him. “This place acts differently. I have a feeling it is still attempting to delay our escape.”

“Hey,” Ric says gently, reaching for his hand again. “Don’t let go of me again, man. I need you here. And don’t go giving up just yet.” He holds his other hand out, splaying out his fingers, reaching, sensing. “Everything’s different here,” he murmurs. “Time, space, physics. It’s not Earth, but I think I can still…”

A rumble echoes through the cave as the lava begins to bubble around them. ‘Star grips his hand tightly, alarmed, but Ric stays focused. The rock beneath them begins to shift, pieces at the edge beginning to fall away as it slowly starts to rise out of the fire. Ric pushes himself harder. He’s not sure what he’s drawing from, what source of power he could possibly be tapping into. 

This isn’t Earth, but it’s working. The platform they’re standing on keeps rising, a pillar growing out of a fiery sea, lifting them up towards the light. They’re getting closer now, so close he swears he can almost see the sky on the other end of the portal.

‘Star grips his hand so tight that Ric swears he hears something crunch, but it doesn’t matter. The rock rises and shifts and suddenly they are both engulfed in that familiar bright light. 

A second later, the pressure shifts, making his ears pop. The portal closes and the rock drops out from under their feet, but they only fall an inch before their feet find solid ground again. Ric’s hand aches in ‘Star’s grip when he finally loosens it. 

When he opens his eyes, all he can see is the purple and orange glow of the desert at sunrise. They made it. 

Ric has just enough time to drink it in before he sees ‘Star collapse to his knees out of the corner of his eye.

He rushes to his side as the portal disappears, white light vanishing and leaving them both washed in the brazen gold of the early sun. ‘Star’s okay; he’s just catching his breath, exhausted after travelling so far. The lingering trace of all that bioelectricity still crackles around him. Ric feels a shock when he reaches out to touch him, mild, like static build-up on a sweater. His other hand finds the ground, sand and dry dirt, and he grounds him, letting the rest of that built-up energy flow harmlessly through him and back to the earth.

Then he lets himself sink to the ground, laying flat on his back with his arms and legs splayed out, laughing breathlessly as the earth sings at his touch.

“Julio,” ‘Star says, gazing down at him. “You’re -”

“I know,” Ric says, voice cracking with relief. His eyes sting with tears. “I’m home.” Wherever they are - West Coast somewhere, he thinks, Cali or maybe Nevada - nothing’s ever felt so real to him. He thought of home and it brought them here, to the middle of the desert, at the convergence of a hundred different fault lines and seismic hot spots. Ric feels all of them, feels the motion and the power and the life there. Suddenly he’s connected to all of it. The planet moves around him, alive and breathing, and he’s part of it again.

‘Star leans in and kisses him. He’s solid, tangible, _real_ in a way that Ric had missed desperately. His touch is divine and electric. They stay there, kissing the way that the morning sky kisses the gold desert earth, perfect and inevitable.

Rictor is back where he’s meant to be. They both are.


End file.
